Reflections of Friday Night

I haven't blogged in a few days, or maybe in about a week or so, well I've been doing some self reflection (like when am I not self reflecting.) At any rate, I'm trying to escape this karma that I've created, which has unfolded as my life. In the process of gaining perspective on this karma and the actual events which have shaped who I am, has caused me to cocoon- I really haven't been communicating as much or as well as I should with my friends and assocaites- one on hand I've been very very busy and on the other I've been preoccupied with myself- trying to escape this anxiety, loss of self esteem, and shame. In the past week or so, especially after realizing the role that "sex" plays in my life and the difficult process of change- and how change is the only thing permenant in life and in order to survive we must change/ evolve/ progress- I've realized that I've cocconed because something within me has really changed or at least I've rediscovered certain aspects of my old self which are not killed off or deleted simply just lying dormant. i.e. there was a point in my life when I would only have sex with one dude at a time- however in recent years i've had sex with more than one guy in a day or shyt sometimes within a few hours- and lets not even talk about the sex parties and freak sessions- and perhaps this is the reason that hiv scares me so much- because i realize how fortunate I am, but at the same time it forces to me to examine all the unsafe situations I've put myself in.

Well, Friday night, I went out to dinner with Sweetness and two of her freinds; dinner was great- good conversation, great food, and much love all around the table. Well, Sweetness and I had two drinks at dinner, I had a scotch and then a glass of wine with my meal, Sweetness had two scothes and boy was she drunk after that. Well, after I dropped Sweetness off, she told me not to drink too much tonight, I don't knwo how in her 85 years of wisdom she knew I was planning on going out and getting my tequila on- but she knew- So, I said ok- gave her a big hug and proceeded to go home and change into my ghettto wear- got home hung up my suit, threw on some jeans, a black long john shirt and a shirt over that and I was out the door and yeah I showered before getting dressed- lol- So, I'm in the car playing some Redman, getting into the I don't give a fuck mood cause I had a hard week- So, I finally get to the Prop House show my VIP card, which I just received, so I didn't have to wait in line. I see one of my buddies soon as I get in the club, as always he starts he bullshyt "you never call a brotha" YADA YADA fucking yada- I'm like man you never call me either so lets call it a truce- we agree to be better about calling although I know he gets on my nerves with his I wanna be a thug and I only fuck wit real niggahs attitude- to say the least the night is not starting off well- So, I go to the bar and simply ask for a bottle of water, not I know something has changed within me because normally that would have been give me a Dr. Philgood or a long island or at least a beeer- Well, the entire night proceeded in this matter- me going to the bar and drinking water- I was surprised at how differently I felt about the club being sober and all-

Well, I learned alot from a simple change in libation- I learned that the club is not where I belong- I don't like being starred down or running into my x's or niggahs that i've fucked with who r now talking to my ex's (and seeing my last x leave the club with this brotha who claimed three days ago that he loved me) not even going to go down that road because I'm already infurtraited about the entire situation- but in hind sight the shyt was funny the two liars deserve one another and sadly but surely my x will discovery that- which brings me to the fact of my latest sadness- why is that we as bothers are so disposable to one another? Recylable or simply left to be scattered in landfills- and as horrrific as the Rashawn Brazell tragedy is why do we treat each other the same way he killer did everyday-??????? Things that make you go hmmmmmm and what the fuck-

Well this blog could be so much longer but theres no need to go on and on about what most of us already know and either simply choose to ignore or just don't give a fuck-for me- I'm realizing that the things I hate in others are the things I hate in my self- I hate liars because I hate the part of me that finds it necessary to lie- I had promocoius negroes because I hate being primoucous- I abhor negreos who have no self worth/ self respect/ or dignity because I hate the old me and parts of the new me which express these traits- at any rate, like Jennifer Holiday sang in dream girls I AM CHANGING-- just LOOK AT ME---- LOOK AT ME-- but don't look to close because u might see some part of yourself....

Instable in my Stability (draft)

Ok, it's been a few days and I haven't blogged- mostly because I've been constipated with thoughts/ feelings that have paralyzed my writing abilities but not my speaking ability- in the last few days I've had various conversations with myself- yes I've resorted to talking to myself- perhaps I have indeed gone crazy- I'm not exactly sure yet- at any rate what I do know is that I'm changing so rapidly that it's hard for me to keep up with myself-

I'm overwhelmed by the karma that i've created
and my place in the world
and the fact that i'm not perfect but i am special
that i'm deeply flawed and filled with rage

The Impact of Change (draft)

Change is the only thing constant in out lives and yet and still it is one of the most diffucult processes to undertack and handle. As I'm going through some files, disgarding the things (letters, cards, photos, old bills, bank statements, etc) I'm amazed at how much has changed in my life. MAny things have changed without me being really aware of them- others have changed very conscously- me making the decision that I was going to alter my ways/ behaviors- how even now in the midst of my biggest struggle- my battle with sex- I'm pushing myself to change but at the same time get caught up in doing the same behavior that i abhor and i'm trying so desperately to change-

Where Have I Been?

Where have I been that I just read of the vicous/ unhumane murder of Reshawn Brazell-
my first reaction is sickness n sorrow/ my stomach is in knots and tears form in my eyes- my second reaction is that of deep ANGER! How could something like this happen? And why isn't the media covering this story so a killer can be brought to justice? Right, know I really just want to vomit- and then for his mother to say he had girlfriends and be in denial about his sexuality- envy she says- envy killed her son- Wake up bitch!! I really want to vomit. The article is entitled "Young Gay Man Hacked Apart"- as the tears form in my eyes, as I lose my breath at my desk- I find myself incredibly sad and angry! I want to strike out- to hurt someone for the hate and fear that some people possess. Honestly, I want to disappear because this might have been me or one of my closest freinds- the words thoughts,sorrow i feel for this young man is too real and revalavent for this blog to emcompass-

I hope they find the person who did this..

Disguises and Ready Made Men

Last night, I went to the cruise park for a minute- and I do mean a minute- because slowly but surely I'm phasing out some of the extracurriliar activities I've partaken in for the wrong reasons- So, I pull up next to this guy- he gives me the eye, so I'm like whassup man, to which he nods his head, so I'm like whatever. Hoping this brotha ain't going to work my nerves because he was already turning me off because he had on a doo-rag and a Timberland hat- but I choice to overlook it cause the brotha looked kinda cute- and being cute is whassup. So, dude rolls down his window I'm like "whats the deal man?" "Chillen man" he replies. I'm like kewl, kewl, nodding my head- so dude is just looking at me not really saying much- licking his lips n such- so I ask again "what's the deal man"? and he's like "chillen, chillen", and I say "so you just come out here to chill chill n look crazy?" Brotha tripped out- he was like "oh that's not the look I was going for" I'm like hun? with my mouth wide open in disbelief- and he starts rolling up his window "that's not the look I was going for"- so I'm like "yo dude, it's a joke, take it light, we in the park"- as i brush my shoulders- this brotha is like i will rolls up his window and rolls off- I'm like hmmm not the look he was going for hun? Which means exactly what? What "look" was he going for? So, after this alteration- I took it as yet another sign that I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be- so I took my ass home and continued cleaning my apartment and spent some "me" time- which consisted of me reading, surfing the net, doing some writing and as always too much thinking- thoughts- breakthroughs all over the place- So, I've been encouraging myself to "let it go" & "put it down"- It's like I'm afraid I will lose control once I let everything go and allow myself to confront and feel everything that life has become to me-

At any rate, so this morning I awoke a lil earlier than I'm used to and again my brain was on the move because I just had thoughts/ideas about last night's encounter and accepting the place that I'm @ and understanding my own process- like recently I've discovered that I often use sex as a means of validation/ power/ of being worthy or accepted shyt, lusty and desired after- it's not love but it's someone wanting me- and I put myself into these situations and then get mad and frustrated with myself and others for the objectification that takes place- I.E. I use sex to keep my mind of the other problems- like the loneliness/ the temporary fantasy of not having to deal with the fact I really just want one brotha but most brothas can't handle me because I serve as their quiet reminder of everything a man has been/is & should be-

Recently, I've noticied that I put alot of pressure on myself to change/ to ensure I'm evolving/ not in the same place as yesterday/ the day before/ the minute before/ the second before/ always pushing myself to confront my past/ confront the hurt/ the pain/ the confusion/ the agony/ which is/ was/ has become my life- and for many years I wore disguises pretending that I was a ready man looking for another ready man- but there are no ready made men- we are all a work in progress and some of us still are trapped within our disguises, putting too much energy into the "look were going for" instead of simply just being who we are-

Accepting the Burden of Proof (draft)

For most of my life I've been told two words/phrases, which I've learned to detest- this two words have shaped my life in many ways-they speak the true nature of who i am and what i've been trying to hide but desperatelty push myself to confront or totally accept or reject- this two words/phrases are "your special"/ "your different"

I 1st heard this words early as a child in either Kidergarden(damn forgot how to spell it) or preschool- I remmber my preschool teacher Ms. Robinson press into my chest discipling me and telling me how I was different and shouldn't behave the way that I was- I still have painful memories of her nails prickin my chest- but looking back in retrospect she was simply teaching me the My pre-school teacher named her son after me

Having sex with strangers disempowers me, it allows me to ignore the truths and facts of my life- but still somewhere inside my conscius/ inside my inner thoughts/ motivations I enter into a state of actual conscius evolvution- always exiting the war at the right moment/ always waking up before the storm- always seeing things for what they are- gaining sight after choicing blindness-

The look the brotha was going for- I thought to myself what look were u going for- when obviously he served as a quiet reminder of who I am- I am a brotha who taking away his defenses- who is uncovering who he truly is and who has discovered that "looks' don't account for much- because u can't judge a book by its cover and the proof is in the product not the packaging- and here it is- most people are afraid of themselves- and when they meet me i serve as a quiet reminder of someone who has lost their footage but who struggles to regain equilbruim and balance over his life-

Cleaning the House

Last night, as I started to clean my dirty behind apartment- things were moving in me- I thought at first maybe this was because I hadn't eaten- but that wasn't it- As I cleaned my apartment, it was as if I was cleaning my soul- cleaning my brain from the waste of my childhood/adulthood/ misconceptions/ n miscalculations of what my life has/ and had become- which is nothing like what i thought it would be as a child- so i sat there disorganized and confused as I went from room to room cleaning a lil bit of this/ throwing this away and that away/ but not really cleaning up anything in the big scope of things- When suddenly I told myself clean one room at a time/ it still took about 30 minutes before I listened to that voice inside me that said clean one room at a time/ finally able to capture and control my focus I started to clean my bathroom only/ discontinuing my scattered habit of cleaning all rooms ar one time/ but then realizing i wasn't cleaning at all-

Well I scrubbed my tub, cleaned my sink, scrubbed my toilet, swept and mopped the floor, cleaned the mirror- and the bathroom was done- Within that I cleaned yet another part of myself- because mysterious thoughts n feelings were seeping through my body-

I then proceed to the computer room/ walk in closet- at which time I took apart my computer and relocated it to another room/ the same happened with my bed/ kitchen table/ and other items-

I then ran out to target to buy a few things to freshen up my apartment and give my bathroom some color- To say the least I spent way to much money but when I woke up this morning and say my bathroom it was worth it.

At any rate, because I was so busy rearranging furnture and the such- I didn't completely finish cleaning my house- it was after 1am when I decided I needed to go to bed and finish cleaning today-

Before I went to bed last night, I sat in my bed looking at my apartment the clean spots and the still dirty spots/ how much work I accomplished and how much I still needed to do- in some ways it was a reminder of my life- there are lots of things I've addressed and many more that I'm still addressing or will address- sometimes I simply can't clean everything at once--

Out of Limbo

Lately it seems as if I have not been myself- I haven't done anything that I normally would do or would not do. However my mind is heavy with anxiety and fear-and something within me has changed- I can't exactly name it right now- but I know that something is different- It's like my body/mind/ heart/ n soul are lined up to clear out the unnecessary garabage in my life- the lies that I've been told/the untruths I've believed/ the deceptive vices which have warped my life

Perhaps, the spirit of the poem is taking over- I'm not exactly sure- all I know is that/
For the past 3 months, this change has occurred gradually, not really making big movements or strides but subtle "reminders", subtle thoughts/ feelings/ emotions- which are now pounding through my body begging for freedom/ demanding release/ demanding me to listen/ moving into new territory/ territory which is causing me to be bombarded with thoughts/ feelings/ urges/ desires that I've been too afraid to confront

However, latelt, it seems as if I'm no longer capable of escaping my self- I attempt to stay busy but then anothe memory takes over/ a look from someone's face reminds me of the time when--
a simply look in a stangers eyes scares me because they see everything I don't want them to and the secrets that I've been hiding for so many years- secrets which haunt me/ haunt my extistance because without these exeriences I wouldnt be alive today- my expereience have shaped who I am- wither good or bad/ they have taught me how to survive in a world which has no place for me/ a world that is not safe/ that has no time/place/or space for a black man who loves another man/ it is this world i live in/ but don't want to look at/ i dont want to have to look at the pain/ the ugliness/ but i know i have to-
i have to start looking at myself/ spending time with myself/ healing myself from the brutal wars which have been my life-

the shear fact that I must comes to terms with the loneliness that I must endure to become who I'm supposed to be-

Quiet Reminders (draft)

In the last few days, I've been nothing but unproductive- I haven't really done anything/ my laundry still needs to be washed/ my dishes are still in my sink/ my bathtub needs to be scrubbed- but I haven't done anything- While my actions are dormant, my mind is spinning out of control. As I continue to rediscover the experiences which have impacted my life- through the use of my poetry- through the use of giving this pain and anguish action- I free myself- Audre Lourde says poetry is not a luxury it's neccesary- Ntozake says the spirit of the poem takes over and gives me back what I discovered I didn't have to give up.

Well it is through poetry that I uncover my life and realize that my thoughts/body/feelings/are not "shattered" but simply scattered-

When it's too Scary to Love Someone

Now, about a month or so ago, my buddy posted a blog, entitlted love in a life like this. Till this day, I haven't been able to articualte the words, feelings, and thoughts that surround my heart and head attached with "love in a life like this."

With frank honesty, much of the delay in my response is my own personal fear and the amount of self analyzation I will need to undertack in an effort to tackle the exact question posed to myself and others.

Well, for the past three-five weeks I've tackled my thoughts/feelings about

"love in a life like this"-

So here they are for all exposure/visiblibilty/& public scrunity.

Draft1
Like my freind Claystarr, all I've ever wanted to do in life was to meet some man and fall in love and have him fall in love with me. However, this has never truly happened. I've had several relationships, none of which seemed to offer me the safety, understanding, time nor space I needed to develop into the man I'm meant to be. However, I still persist, but to what bounds? Claystarr ask, how does one love in a life like this?

My answer is simple- many times one doesn't! Yeah, it's sad but true, but many of us never do. We might fool ourselves into beliveing that were in love or that someone loves us back, but in the back of our hearts and minds we all know that were not giving enough, trusting enough, or allowing ourselves to truly fall in love. We are simply filling our shelfs with "trouphies" which don't make us happy but help assist in our much needed "outer appearance".

I.E, for a large percentage of men when asked what's their idea man, the response is 6' or taller, muscular body, ass for days, big dick, masculine, and DL.

My first thought in this "wish" list is unrealistic expectations- now, personally speaking, my biggest issue on the wish list is our "community's" "obsession with the DL". For whatever reason, we have more brothas ready and willing to accept "love" in dark places and steamy rooms than in the light of day. I mean damn, I just want to hold your hand or be able to kiss ur lips in grand central station- if thats what I CHOOSE to do- But, at any rate- anyone who lives on the DL can't love me, because their own description in itself limits the amount of "love" that their willing or capable of; afterall their only interested in loving me on the "down low"- you know behind doors, with windows shut tight and the curtains drawn so noone sees- Well, I can't love anyone who is ashamed of loving me nor who has a problem with what they feel and finds the NEED to hide the person whom they claim they "love".

At any rate, the point of this blog was & is not to bash the "DL" brothas, although majority of yall work my fucking nerves with your issues and insecurities and masculinity issues but always want to be in my face- LMAO- Anyway, today's blog is to examine the role that hiv+ brothas play in my life and others- afterall that is what "loving in a life like this" signifies- and how exactly does one "love in a life like this?"

Well, last week a poet freind of mine told me he was in love with me- to which I blushed- because I was like what? And he said listening to my poetry has caused him to fall in "love" with me-

Now, this would have been fine #1 if I wasn't so into Cutiepie & #2 if the brotha wasn't hiv+

Draft #2-

So, I've deeply considered/analyzed/ re-evaluated my views on "love" and what would a "love" like this" entail- Recently a poet buddy of mine, who happens to be hiv+, told me that he was in love with me and was interested in becoming involved with me- Well, initially I was shocked because when he initially told me he was hiv+ months ago, I went numb- because I still haven't developed the maturity it takes to date/be involved with someone who is hiv+. Now, logically speaking, I'm sure I have kissed/slept with/ dated/ people who were hiv+ and didn't know or didn't tell me- but for whatever reason knowing and assuming are two different things- and when I know it makes a difference- sad as that may seem- it's the truth

Draft #3 1/28/05 Turn the Radio Up-
that's my jam......I've always said that I like to feel my music. Well, the other day, I was at home listening to some Betty Carter, now Betty is one bad bitch let me tell ya' So, I'm listening to Bad ass Betty and I'm listening and suddenly the music takes over and I'm somewhere else. It's like I'm outside of myself looking at my life, examining my expereinces, desperately trying to understand how did I get to this point....my memories are mushed together, locked in my left leg, tied to bullet wound where two years ago someone tried to take my life and I'm living in this music. Betty is all over the place, taking me to distant memories of things I thought I had forgot, things I wish I could forget forever, but their still here. And suddenly the music is interrupted by newsflash and gossip about hiv/aids. For the past few days, I've been floaded with e-mails, blogs, Im's, phone conversations, passing conversations in streets and bars, and god damn, someone please turn the music back on because I'm tired of hearing all this. Hearing all this information thats making me too damn afraid to touch anyone but knowing that I need to be touched and I'm going to have to touch somone. My boy Claystarr asks, how does one live in a life like this?

Honestly, I don't know- with great care I guess. But, whatever happened to rather loving and losing than never loving at all. I guess that's so old school because even I don't follow that one anymore. It's sad but true, hiv and aids scares the fuck out of me and now I hear there's a new strain thats immune to like 3 drug therapies and develops in aids even quicker.

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I'm scared as a muthafucka of this deadly disease, so someone please turn the radio up, I don't want to hear no more about it!
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Response to my drafts

On many levels I don't understand my own ignorance- I mean I'm the dude that passed out condoms and lolipops on Valentine's Day in undergrad and educated people about hiv protection/preventation/ etc- How in all my educatedness am I still so ignorant and afraid?

The burden of my truth

Last night, I recieved a voicemail from my lil sister about "how i didn't call them back"; how in the world am I supposed to call you back if you log on the internet and sit on there for half of the night?

At any rate, after finallly getting through, my mother anwsers the phone after like 11 rings, (I started to hang up but declined thinking something might be wrong). Well, she starts the conversation off with "Well I decided if anything happens, the kids will go to my( my brother) because your life is so busy and I feel like they need to be in a home with a man and a wife". I was fit to be tied! I wanted to run through the phone and kill her my damn self!

So, I sat there in my car, feeling like shyt, as the heat of anger came over me, but I reminded myself to breathe- and I said that's fine- it's your decision and I accept and respect it, (under my breathe- as silly as I think it is.) To which she wants to explain how my "lifestyle" is too busy to raise two children- so I say this all has to do with me being "gay" right? "Oh no, honey, it has nothing to do with that, but your single, etc..." So, I reply so "if I was in a relationship you'd feel comfortable?" And you already know what the answers were/was......

So, there I was dismantled by my burden of truth. By the fact that 8 years ago, I decided to tell my mother the truth about who and what I was; for some follish reason I thought we had overcome the incomfortableness of my lifestyle- this conversation proves that we have not! This conversations, actually reminds me of many things that haven't changed like me thinking that I NEED to take care of my mother- Well honestly, I DO NOT! She's a grown damn woman! So, I hereby cut the umblical cord and live my life for me and the hell with pleaseing her.

Furthermore, this conversation displays the growth the last eight years has induced- Had this conversation happened 5, 6, or 7 years ago I'd probably be cursing myself about how I should & need to be "straight". However, the "new" me knows better- I know that no matter what I accomplish in life, to many people, including my mother, it will never be good enough because the blemish that outshines all my accomplishments is my "gayness/lifestyle/sexuality".

It is this curse and blessing which fuels my self image and my drive in life- It's like this scene has replayed "over and over" again in my life- the difference is- now I CHOOSE TO DEAL with it differently- and self hatred isn't an option.

AND PEOPLE ASK WHY WE NEED GAY MARRIAGE

Anniversaries

Damn, two years has gone by so quick, and it's 11:13 am and I'm reminded that it has been such a long time since I've seen your face, heard your voice, felt your physical presence in my life. Although, I'm thankful that I occasionally feel your spiritual presence when I wake or I'm on my way to sleep- or maybe just riding down the street- sometimes it's a simple glimmer of ur shadow or maybe ur smile coming through the shadows of my room or the touch of ur hand on mine or on my shoulder and I know that your still with me. The strength of your life/ of your compassion has strengthened me beyond words- I can only attempt to express what I feel when I look back at all you helped me to learn about myself and life. And right now, with every breakthrough I have- it's your grace in which you accepted your fate/ your "death" that inspires me to want to live my life better.

Right now, in this moment I hope that you are witnessing the great man that I'm becoming- how I'm growing out of my boundaries of self loathing and silence as I continue to reach out again to feel/to touch/to live/ to trust myself n others n the world around

My "Infactuation" w/ Cutiepie???

Today, I had a long talk with Cutiepie via phone- he's quite concerned with the fact that I'm feeling so much so quickly and he doesn't want to "disappoint" my expectations- Well, I'm still crazy about the brotha, but after hanging up with him and orally spitting out a few poems- it hit me- Cutiepie is a quiet reminder of what I really want and who I truly am. What I want is one brotha to be with/ who I am is a brotha who just needs one brotha-

Now, I know some of yall have read my blog and heard me talk about the crazy places I have been- I think my involvement in some of these places have resulted from my deceptive "coming out process"- When I "came" out the closet, I had recently ending a relationship with my high school sweetheart/ n was going to kill myself/ instead i went to the shrink- who told me that some men are fathful and some are not/ wither they are "gay" or "straight"..... I remember him telling me it sounds like you want everything any other man wants- the house/ the picket fence/ the kids/ n dog/ u just want to be with a man- well this was n is the truth.

I have always simply wanted to fall in love with some man and have him fall in love with me; at this point in my life this has yet to happen. It appears that time and time again, I fall in love with men, who fall in love with other men/ white men/ muscular men/ masculine men/ feminine men/ but none of these men are me- I.E. My 1st "relationship" ended because the brotha fell in love with another man/ who just happened to be a white man/ the hurt from this relationship has scared my reality and the way i think n feel about myself.

At any rate, after the delution of this relationship I came out to my family and then shortly moved to Philadelphia where I expereinced "The City of Brotherly love", a place where I was free to be who and what I was because I was away from home and in a big city where noone knew me or could judge me- they simply had to accept me. Looking back, accepting me cost more than I realized at the time; for the most part, much of who I thought I was, was opaque and my time there molded "who" and "what" I was to become and how I was to live my life. To say the least, I abadoned my white house and picket fence because "we" didn't live in white house or picket fences/ we didn't live together at all/ we were single men who had fun at each others expense/ never loving/ never losing/ never really touching at all

It was in Philly that I went into my first "gay" bar, had my 1st "one night stand", had my first "openly gay" freind, and learned about life as a "gay" man. It was during this crucial year that I began to live my life as a "gay" man- so I learned to do as the Romans do when in Rome/I went home with men/ only wanting to hug but ended up fucking/ and believed that it was normal/ i mean "everyone" was doing it/ so it must be normal right/ this is the way that "gay" men behave- this is the way that men who don't have a problem with sexuality behave, right? And that's what I always wanted to be/ a man who didn't have a problem with his sexuality/ a man who was masculine n didn't have a problem loving another man/
that's what i wanted to be- to love some man and have some man love me

Well as time passed, I forgot about loving anyone; I became a fragment of other people's imagination. Maybe it was to avoid the pain of being alone/ or maybe i simple just needed to be accepted/ so if I had to take some guy home then I had to take him home/ if i had to be silent of my dreams which composed of white houses/ picket fences/ kids/ a dog/ n laying up with some man/ then that's what i had to do/ so I became a lusty servant to what ever man had my attention at that particuliar point in my life. ----That's until Cutiepie. ---

Ya, see every since I met Cutiepie, my feelings are on 20; my mind has been spinnning out of control because unbeknown to my concious mind/ my body remembered what it felt all those years back/ how i always wanted to spend my life with one brotha- talking wit Cutiepie made me want to make this one brotha him/ the way he feels against my body/ how i melt when he kisses me/ how i ALLOW myself to feel unprotected/ open/ able to receive something from someone/ vulnerable.... in short, talking with him regained my hope of being wit one brotha.

Maybe my homeboy was right, I'm simply infatuated with him- I'm not sure... All I know is that this feeling feels good and now that I'm written about it, I'm much calmer. You know Iyana Vanzant says "people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime"- right now Cutiepie has fullfilled one of those categories, who knows what else might be in store?

Responsibilities to My Mother

Last night, I received a phone call from one of my lil sisters. She was telling me about school and the fact that my mother hadn't been feeling good. I knew that just last week, my lil sister called me and told me that my mother was in the hospital and there was something wrong with her appenditics or ovaries. Well, long and behold last night in the middle of the conversation, the patient herself gets on the phone. And the first words out of her mouth are "I think I'm dying"- not a good way to start the conversation, especially since next Monday will mark the 2nd year anniversary of my best freind's passing and I'm in the middle of eating dinner with Sweetness.

Sweetness normally gets irrirated when I answer the phone if were eating or in the middle of a conversation, but if it's a business call or a call from Jersey I always take it. So, at any rate, I'm playing with my salad, as my mother goes on and on about how she doesn't have health insurance, which pisses me off because this was something I did not know, and how the hospital is treating her as an outpatient versus admitting her because of her lack of health insurance. Well, I get down to askng her what the hell is wrong with her? And she tells me they found "poop" in her colon, I'm like ok and so do you have an infection, or a virus, or some kinda disease- basically what has the Dr. said is the cause of the problem? I mean come on "poop" in your colon- And she's like well they don't know. All she does know is that my grandmother is afraid that something is going to happen to her and she'll be stuck to raise my two lil sisters.

I'm like of shyt, here we go! Sweetness can tell that I'm in a very deep state because she keeps looking at me with that maternal look and giving my little suggestion to say like "drink more water". So, of course I repeat the things Sweetness is mimicking to me and when suddenly I say, well if anything happens to you, the girls can move to Chicago with me, to which she replies my "lifestyle" is too busy to raise two young girls. Now, I'm boiling fucking mad, I want to run through the phone and ring her neck, but I just simple breath. Then I get to wondering what the hell does she mean my "lifestyle"? Is she talking about the fact that I sleep with men or the fact that I'm "living in the world" (my family is Jehovah's Witness). So, anyway I quickly get over myself as she tells me it's going to take her a week to get a Cat Scan/ and then she needs an ultrasound, which takes a few more days- and I'm like why does it take so long- and then I remember she just told me she doesn't have health insurance- and being that I once worked at a hopsital, I know how they do it. If you don't have insurance and shyt in many cases not the right type of insurance, they stablize you and send your ass out the door. And right now, I've getting a lil too much indigestion from this conversation so I need to hang up- so I tell my mother that I'm eating dinner and I'll call her later.

I hang up the phone, simply take a deep breath and start eating my baby beef liver, when Sweetness looks at me and says "Are you Ok?" I further explain the situation, I mean she did overhear must of it anyway. And of course, she ask me why doesn't your mother have insurance? and if she can go to like a Cook County Hospital, where there is no charge and I have to explain to her the complexity of being black n poor n living n a small ass town where they are no "free hospitals". Well Sweetness sees and senses that I'm really not in the mood to even remotely discuss the healthcare reform in America, so she switches the topic to my career? And I look at her and say, in the past year I've learned that there's more to life than theatre- I want to be an actor but if something happened to my mother, I would raise my lil sisters- acting would be there. This in itself tripped me out like how would my life be with two little girls? Where would they sleep- I mean I live in a studio apartment- obviously I would have to get a bigger apartment/ and where would they go to school?/ how would they transition/ How would I date someone/ i wouldn't be able to hang out/ i would have to lock the porno collection up/ i really can't deal with another death right now/ hoping that everything would be ok/ if this was to happen- where would it put me/ how would this change my life/ i know i would have to continue to live but i ain't about to become no Witness and I know my mother would want them to go to the Kingdom Hall- I've always told her I'd make so sure they went/ but once they got 18/ they would have to make their own decision- many questions/ worrying/ thoughts/ trapped feelings/ of losing my mother and inheriting two young girls/ or what some would say two young women- they are 14 & 15.......

Well, hopefully all this worrying is just that worrying because as I told my mother last night, I'm not ready to go back to Jersey, to have to pack up her house, bury her body, and bring her children into my busy "lifestyle" and this wicked city known as Chicago.

All I know is that if anything should happen, life is bigger than just my life- I have responsibilities to my mother & my family.

A New Day

Last night I went to bed kinda early; I little after 10 to be specific. I know after 10 pm is early but hey, I was worn out and tired. After an 8 hour regular work day, then hitting the gym for a good hour and then attending a Committee Meeting with owners who just don't understand the law and didn't let out till 9PM- I was ready to go home and lay it down. I called cutiepie on my way home and didn't get an answer- wasn't suprised by that and decided to just shower and lay down somewhere. So, I washed my ass, allowing the water to run for extended periods to wash away my headaches and troubles of the day. Ah, I then got a few books, laid in my bed & proceeded to read and ended up writing. I didn't actually write much- alot of thoughts but couldn't properly articulate exactly what I was feeling, so i got up and went to my computer and just began typing- the thoughts on the screeen jumped around more than a kid that was going to wet himself- but hey got them out- It was as if i was sitting there with the peices to my life rearranging the picture once more so i could get a better understanding of exactly what the painting was saying/expressing- a great deal of pain- splashed in intense reds and purples/ feiry blues were thinly laid about the canvas/ and here and there lil flickers of light. I closed my eyes after releasing/revisiting many of this coloral pastels/ my fingers were dripped in oil/ then water color/ then clay/ i was creating a portrait of my life with different mediums/ the easel become heavy but never collapsed- the picture simply stood there- distorted/ not angular/ not level/ not like anything i had seen before- a black boy's pain/ keith antar says DONT TOUCH HIM- DONT NOBODY TOUCH HIM/

well, I didn't cry last night/ i simply revisited my past to understand how i got to my present and what am i going to paint next/ fear or love/ am i going to live my life being afraid or am i going to jump beyond the bounds of the bridge and know that i'll be ok cause i can swim/

last night i laid back in the bed/ rested my body against the sheets/ n imagined water taking me away/ i floated on water last night/ i never once thought i was going to drown/ i just floated on water/ like particles/dirt/leaves/ wishes float miles and miles from home to nuture/nature/ w its glimmering/ i floated on water/ on the tops of waves which cascade into sand/rocks/beaches/ oceans/ seas/
i feel sleep w/ the feeling of water on the back of my neck/ between my thighs/ my toes/ my eyes/ my nose/ i feel asleep to water last night n listening to love songs-

I awoke to a love song/ might have been when i fall in love/ OR/ marvin n tammy terrell/ i'm not sure/ all i know is that cutiepie was on my mind/ and i was filled w/ wanting to be with him/ but knew i needed this time to myself/ so i laid in the bed/ with the afteraffect of the water/ the sootheness that it gave me/ my depth of peacefullness/ the rich softness that carressed my body- soft/ gentle/ loving/ intimate/ i then rolled over & under my sheets/ above my sheets/ from one pillow to another/ by this time it was about 2 am.... i went back to my computer and wrote somemore- again- incomprehensible thoughts/ so i put on a movie and massaged myself into some limp state of extasy/ again a thought of cutiepie lingered thru my mind/ i begin wondering what it would be like to have sex with him/ kissing him/ i touched my nipple/ massaged my manhood/ liked my lips/ touched my nipple again n just wanted to hug with him- wondered how his body would feel against mine/ how his manhood would feel against my butt/ as i slept into the night/ would i feel safe in his arms/ was he fucking someone else/ knowing i couldnt let him fuck me/if/ he was sleeping with someone else/ cause can't let nobody leave my bed n go to another/ then smacking myself/ wake the fuck up/ live in reality/ ur single/ he's single/ he can do whatever he wants/ switching videos/ then touching my nipple/ blinking my eyes/ feeling the heat from my inner self/ massaging/ stroking/ feeling that feeling like it's bout to cum up/ holding on my nipple/ then the other/ oh shyt---i'm reaching extasy by myself/ i got up/ went into the bathroom to clean myself n went back to bed/ back to my wild dreams of floating on water

i woke up again about 5 or 6 am, listened to these crazy love songs- and eventually drifted back to sleep/ i awoke again- this time by my alarm/ i got up feeling restored/refreshed/ turned the radio up/ opened the blinds- allowing light to hit my body/ there i stood naked/ splattered with intense paints/ i turned on the shower/ brushed my teeth/ gargled with a lil mouthwash/ then into the warm shower/ the water against my body like making love/ gentle/ silent/ soft/ then hard/ cascading against every part of my body/ i let the water run over my body like rain/ wet/ light/ soft/ i then turned off the shower/ dried off and massaged my body with lotion and african oil/ got dressed n out the door/ but not before i read my inspirational passage for the day from Acts of Faith/ (i've began picking it up again)/ the point of the day- whenever there's pain- it's a signal that somethings wrong/ therefore today when and if i expereince pain- i know that there's something wrong- so lets just say as i walked out the door- looking and feeling decent this morning- that today is a new day...I mean hell, I actually got to work early...